Peace River (Rockland Ranch Series) (18 page)

             
Actually, he smiled too.  “That was good.  But it’s not going to work.  Put the laundry down and stop.  This is ridiculous.”

             
“Slade, it’s a load of jeans for heavens sake.  Have you and I even once, since we’ve known each other, made a big deal of status?  Until this particular moment I mean?”

             
She wasn’t going to back down.  “Slade, listen to me.  You act like I am doing this great magnanimous service, when if you and I would just get really honest, we’d admit that I’m way more liability than I’m worth.  We both know you two are basically acting as bodyguards or something while you’re letting me enjoy this great adventure on the rodeo circuit.  I told you I don’t believe in coincidence.  I know I was blessed to have the two of you need truck repairs next to Anna’s diner at exactly the right time.  Let’s do be honest with each other, and actually come right out and say that if they find me, you and Rossen could be in the middle of an ugly, dangerous mess.  How much is that worth to me, Slade Marsh?”  

             
He opened his mouth to say something, and she put up a hand.  “Look, how about if we look at it this way.” 

She took a step nearer.
  “How about if we say you’ll throw me a bone, and let me feel like you really do need me, so I can rationalize that I should stay here, in spite of the fact I could be putting the two of you in possible danger.” 

Her
voice took on a pleading tone.  “‘Cause I’m really enjoying myself, and I don’t want to go.  Could that work?”  Not only had she backed him up to the wall, but as she was talking she'd moved closer and closer until she was only inches from him.  He ran a hand through his hair and glanced down at her nervously and she hoped her perfume would cloud his judgment.  It must have worked, because he looked at her for a minute in silence and gave in. 

             
She laughed before he even said okay, and threw her arms around his waist in a hug and said, “Thanks, Slade.  You’re the best.  Now give me the jeans.”  Hoisting the bag over her shoulder, she practically skipped out of the trailer, leaving Slade standing against the trailer wall with a slightly shaken look on his face.

              The Cowboy’s Christmas was every bit as busy as they’d warned her it would be.  After about a week, both humans and horses had begun to wear down and only the added excitement counteracted that.  Isabel drove more than she ever had, and she definitely felt they needed her.

             
One evening as they pulled in, unloaded and immediately saddled the horses, Slade turned to her and asked, “Is, would you mind watching our horses for us?  Rossen and I need to see the secretary first.”  She nodded as they hurried off.  They were gone a long time and as rodeo time drew near she knew their horses were going to be stiff if they didn’t get warmed up.  Wondering what to do, she finally climbed on Slade’s horse, tucked her boots between the leathers of his stirrups, grabbed Rossen’s horse by the reins and began to pony him around the arena as she warmed them up with the rest of the cowboys and cowgirls who would be competing that evening. 

             
As she loped the horses in slow circles, she felt like she was getting an unusual amount of attention. When the cowboys she’d been introduced to saw her, she saw surprise in their faces.  She’d almost decided there must be a rule against someone who wasn’t actually competing, being in the arena or something.  It couldn’t be helped.  The horses needed to be warmed up. 

             
Finally, as the riders left the arena and the announcer started up, she saw Slade and Rossen approaching.  She rode toward them, slid to the ground and handed over their reins.  Even Rossen seemed surprised that she was riding, but there was no time to talk.  She went to unload the other horses and get their rope horses warmed up, and they went to the far end of the arena where they’d soon be bulldoggin’.  She didn’t think another thing about it until she was on her way back to the trailer after the barrel racers had finished and the bulls were about to start.

             
As she was skirting the concession stand, she heard Jesse’s unmistakable voice.  “They say she just works for them, but I don’t believe it after seeing her on Slade’s horse.  He never lets anyone but Rossen even touch that horse, let alone ride it.  And did you see him when she handed him over?  He acted like it was nothing.  Just nothing at all.  I’ve thought there must be something going on.  Since she’s been around he hasn’t come out dancing or anything even once . . .”

             
Isabel walked on out of earshot, although she’d been tempted to stay and listen.  That must have been what all the surprised looks were about.  That seemed funny because it hadn’t seemed like a big deal to her or Slade.  And had he changed his lifestyle when she came?  It was something to think about.

             
                                          ****

              One night in Texas, as she was walking back to the trailer by herself in the dark during the bull riding, she saw Leland Wilde standing near another trailer up ahead.  Wishing Slade or Rossen had come to see her back, she hesitated to walk past him alone.  It had been several rodeos since they had last walked her to the trailer during the bulls and she missed their reassuring presence. 

             
Feeling a little sheepish for her lack of courage, she returned to near the arena and stayed where there were more people.  She was standing there watching spectators come and go, when she heard Slade’s name from the announcer. 

No!  S
urely she was mistaken, but no, there it was again.  The announcer was telling the crowd some stats on Slade’s rodeo career while they waited for him to get ready in the chute.  She flew up the ramp to the stands above her and was horrified to see Rossen helping Slade settle into a chute that held a huge, dark brown bull.  She was close to that end of the arena and she could see it all perfectly. 

             
Finally set, Slade leaned back, placed his free hand on the gate and nodded his head.  The gate flew open to release the bull.  The blood seemed to drain from her head and she couldn’t catch her breath as the bull lunged out of the opening and spun violently to the left in a powerful rush.  Even with her heart in her throat, she knew she was watching a master rider.  His body seemed to sense what the bull would do next and adjusted for it with each raging plunge.  The writhing animal was a thing possessed and it lunged and spun every which way to displace the rider stuck to its back.  Slade rode with a rhythm and balance that were almost fascinating, as he and the beast careened across the arena in some kind of convoluted ballet.  

             
At last the buzzer sounded and Slade timed the bull’s lunges so he could jump off and away.  With perfect balance, Slade sprung off the side of the bull to land gracefully on his feet in the torn up dirt like it was no big deal.  Isabel felt like she’d been kicked in the stomach.  He retrieved his hat and dusted it off as he crossed the arena to pick up his discarded bull rope.  The bull made a lap around the end of the arena, and then came back after Slade and the official in the arena near him.  Both men raced for the fence and literally ran up it to balance over the top rail as the bull roared past, missing them by inches. 

             
Waiting for the bull to move off, Slade glanced up into the stands above him and, incidentally, right into Isabel’s eyes.  Time stood still for a moment, and then she looked away, turned abruptly and walked back down the ramp.

             
                                          ****

              Rossen had watched Isabel exit the arena after the barrels, so he was dismayed to glance up from behind the chutes and recognize her standing just a short distance away. If he wasn’t mistaken, all heck was going to break loose and soon.

             
Pulling his attention back to the chute in front of him, he finished helping Slade onto the bull’s back.  Now was a bad time to be distracted and he forced himself to focus. 

             
He stood by as Slade signaled for the gate and then made a beautiful ride.  Afterward, as the bull came back, Rossen was watching Isabel again, and after seeing her face as she turned, he made an executive decision to go to the cowboy dance that night.  He’d rather face Angelique any day than be in that trailer when Slade faced Isabel.

                                                        ****

              Surprisingly, the trailer was empty when Slade tentatively opened the door and walked in.  There were normal, square sandwiches made with bread on the counter in sandwich bags--something she hadn’t ever made before.  She usually did something more gourmet than that.  He wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or even more tense.  The truck was here so he doubted she’d gone far.

             
He’d called Rossen a coward earlier when he’d nonchalantly mentioned he was going dancing.  He must have seen Isabel too.

             
With a sigh of discouragement Slade wolfed down a sandwich, dumped his gear in the tack room, and headed for the little shower and the liniment.  He tried to tell himself he didn’t care, that Isabel was being silly, and that he was single and didn’t have to bother with a woman.  All his arguments sounded empty, however when he thought back to the night she’d watched her first bull ride.

             
He was standing at the table wearing only jeans when she walked in.  His hair was still damp and mussed and he was attempting to put liniment on his shoulders.  She stepped over to him and unabashedly looked him up and down, then into his eyes and said, “You have a body like a young Greek god.  I thought you would be more grateful for it than this.”  She turned her back on him and went to bed, pulling her curtain.

             
He shook his head.  It wasn’t quite a slamming door, but was definitely effective. With another long sigh he turned out the light and lay down.  He’d expected anger, or tears, or anything other than the deep quiet sadness he’d seen.  He wanted to talk to her, to explain, to tell her about the goal he’d set, and the hard work they’d invested, and the fame, and the money.  It all sounded hollow here in the dark, with her ten feet away but ten million feet emotionally. 

             
He was still awake when he heard Rossen come in and quietly undress.  In the dark Rossen asked softly, “How’d it go?”

“
Mmm.  Okay.”

“That bad?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

                                          ****

              Isabel knew she was quieter. She tried to be herself and did all the things she normally did, but her smile was tired.  She knew she had no right to expect Slade to change his lifestyle.  After thinking it through, she had to accept the fact that she just didn’t understand.  He seemed more reliable than anyone she’d ever met.  She knew he was the type to take risks, but calculated ones.  Bulls seemed too foolish for him.  And after all, it wasn’t any of her business.  It was his life.  He’d been living like this for years quite nicely without her.  He obviously didn’t need her approval to make his own decisions.  She resolutely decided she’d stand by him even in this.  He had stood by her.  What worried her as much as anything was that she’d been made abruptly and fully aware of how deeply she cared.  She cared a lot.

                                                        ****

Slade had to admire her depth. He knew his riding the bull troubled her deeply, but she managed to deal with it and still pull her weight without ever saying more than she had said that night.   

             
He did a lot of soul searching and decided he’d still ride bulls, but only as many as he needed to get through the NFR.  He could use points from the timed events, but he knew he’d have to ride both broncs and bulls too.  After this year, he’d let the all-around title go. 

             
Since the night she’d busted him they never tried to hide the fact that he was going to ride bucking stock, and she never left during the bulls anymore.  Knowing he’d disappointed her stung, but knowing she had decided to support him in it anyway was priceless. 

             
Two nights later, when he’d been thrown hard and was trying to reach his back with the liniment, she watched quietly for a minute and then offered her help saying, “You need to work the knots out first for it to help the most.  The build up of lactic acid and loss of oxygen to the muscle inhibit the blood flow and increase inflammation.  Turn around and I’ll help.”  She sat behind him and smoothed her hands over the expanse of his back, identifying knots he didn’t even realize he had and then worked over the muscles like an expert.

             
Amazed, he asked, “Where did you learn to do this?”  Her fingers and hands were incredible.  He was all but melting.   

             
From behind him, she said, “I’m three years into a degree in sports medicine, remember?  Most of it has been generals but some of it has been in my field.  On top of that, the same principles hold true for the race horses.  The science of it works the same in horses and humans.  You just smell better and are much easier to reach.”  Her smile reached almost to her eyes.